


Adorable Alternative

by MattieLeland



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Fluff, M/M, One Shot Collection, Sentimental, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-07 18:17:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MattieLeland/pseuds/MattieLeland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can’t sleep.<br/>He feels the warm glow of the lamp next to his bed heat his nape, it illuminates obliquely part of Jean’s face and chest.<br/>He left the light on for him. Jean suffers from nightmares very often, horrible nightmares, he says. Many times Marco has seen him suddenly waking up, covered with sweat and with a terrified expression on his face. It happened that he had tears in his eyes.<br/>That's why Jean now is sleeping next to him.</p>
<p>[MarcoJean fluff AU translation]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Giraffe!

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Giraffa! (Adorable Alternative)](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/33802) by Mattie Leland. 



**Giraffe!**

   
He can’t sleep.  
He feels the warm glow of the lamp next to his bed heat his nape, it illuminates obliquely part of Jean’s face and chest.  
He left the light on for him. Jean suffers from nightmares very often, horrible nightmares, he says. Many times Marco has seen him suddenly waking up, covered with sweat and with a terrified expression on his face. It happened that he had tears in his eyes.  
That's why Jean now is sleeping next to him.  
He never wanted to tell him exactly what he dreamed.  In his sleep he mutters of monsters and people who dying and Marco, despite is very curious, does not want to push him to think about something so terrible even when it is awake, so he never ask anything.  
The only question he has ever done was: Can I do anything for you?  
That time, Jean did not give him a direct answer and it is strange for someone like him, that since he learned to speak has not closed his mouth.  
The next day, he simply make a small proposal. Like out of nowhere.  
< Hey, don’t you think that the bedroom is a bit 'difficult to clean with separate beds? I mean, you know, with the cabinet and the rest… what if we approach the beds? >  
His reasoning had no sense at all.  
The room is small, there is just enough space to move freely and keep it in order, move the beds equates to limiting freedom of movement.  
But now the beds are close together, because Jean it’s afraid and Marco does not want him to stay alone.  
Seeing his face relaxed, illuminated by the light… it makes him happy.  
He loves to look at the face of his best friend, even though he knows he should not but he has resigned himself from a long time to his love for those a little edgy but at the same time very tender traits. He don’t want to see that face contract or seeing tears coming out of his thin eyes.  
He stretches a hand slowly and gently and with one finger touches Jean’s temple, touching his hear too and at that time the guy opens his eyes. Marco does not pull back his hand because it would be useless and, in any case, he does not want to do it.  
< Hey…  >  
Jean's voice is unusually low, but it’s quiet as if it were lulled by sleep.  
< Hey > responds Marco with a smile < how is it going? Bad dreams? > he feels a little unfair to ask, he knows very well that Jean was sleeping like a baby.  
< Nope, nothing like that, only dreams where I punch Eren right in the face. > Show his lopsided smile.  
The silence fall in the room. Marco’s hand has not moved from where it was before, but that does not seem to bother Jean.  That guy call this things “muddling” (it means “men’s cuddling” ) and Marco finds this pretty funny.  
He follows with his eyes the beam of light that illuminates the chest of Jean and then he notices a particular thing. The top of the of his blue pajamas is decorated with a small stuffed giraffe, fixing the world with her black eyes composed by two beads. When Jean realizes that he’s watching it, he puts his arms around his own chest and tries to hole up under the covers.  
< I know it's ridiculous, but it is the only one that I still have. Everything else should be washed. >  
Jean hides his face in the pillow and closes suddenly his eyes, trying to get back to sleep.  
< It’s not ridiculous > says Marco, ruffles his best friend’s hair with the hand < it suits you, that giraffe looks like you. >  
< EH!? >  
Jean looks at him shocked and offended and Marco understands why, but he smiles and continues to touch his hair to calm him.  
< Stay calm, I did not mean to offend you! >  
The other snorts softly, looking at the drawing on his own pajamas.  
< Why do you say that this thing looks like me? >  
< It’s cute. >  
The silence fall again in the room. Thanks to the light that illuminates their room every night, Marco can see Jean’s cheeks blush before his face disappears halfway into the pillow.  
Marco is aware that he said a very embarrassing thing but the truth is that in his ‘relationship’ with Jean, the outspoken is not the latter.  
He caress Jean’s hair again, touching even the ear that turns red.  
< Jean… >  
He approaches. He wants to see his face better, take it in the hands, feel the heat, see that it’s not covered with tears and that's there is no trace of fear on it.  
He does. He can direct the friend's face toward himself and to observe it well, and all he sees is the redness of his cheeks and his ears. He smiles and approaching again, a hand is cradling the face of Jean, the other slips on his back.  
Marco draws Jean to himself, and now his chin resting on the head of Jean, while the latter is curled up against him, his forehead resting at the base of his neck.  
< … Im glad to see you like this. You really do not know how much. >  
He suddenly feels Jean’s hands traveling over his chest and then firmly grasp the fabric of his pajamas, as if he were holding on.  
< S-say this kind of things in a “muddling” moment… >  
< Do you want me to stay silent? >  
Marco feel Jean get closer to him, and with him a great heat that rises from the chest up to the nose.  
< Marco… >  
A few seconds passed without that neither of them two saying a word, then Marco smiles cheerfully, even if Jean can not see it.  
< Polo! >  
He feels that Jean is changing position, and now his arms are no longer against his body, but surround him. Jean is embracing him, and squeezes.  
< Now it’s fine. >  
 _“Now I’m fine”_ Marco knows Jean enough to understand that this is the real meaning of his sentence. He had, therefore, only need to hear he’s respond to their special calling?  
The rest of the night passes clear, neither of them moved away from the other, despite the awkward postures and limbs asleep and tingling.  
The first thing that Marco see in the morning, are the black eyes of the giraffe that reflect the light of the sun, and his long but adorable snout.

 

   
   
THE END


	2. Insecurity!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " Jean hated to admit his weaknesses.  
> It applied not only to the great weaknesses, such as his fear of nightmares or the fear to sleep alone, no, often he was struggling even to admit to being sick, have pain somewhere or even get cold. "

**Insecurity**  
   
Jean hated to admit his weaknesses.  
It applied not only to the _great_ weaknesses, such as his fear of nightmares or the fear to sleep alone, no, often he was struggling even to admit to being sick, have pain somewhere or even get cold.  
This last point was particularly stupid, and even Jean sometimes understood it, but this did not prevent him to remain rigidly sitting on the couch trying to not slamming his teeth while watching tv trying not to think about the fact that the blood had stopped circulating at he’s extremities.  
Come on, after all he had enough muscle to make sure that his body remained warm.  
In fact he did not even know if this thing made sense, but he was assumed that, in any case, wrap himself in a blanket as he actually wanted to do, would have weighed heavily on his masculinity.  
He cleared his throat and tried to maintain an air of dignity, especially when he saw Marco get closer to the couch.  
Definitely he should not have his same mentality, as he went around with a huge fleece blanket over his shoulders, padded slippers and a cup of hot chocolate in his hands. Well, he could afford it, his jovial face was matched perfectly with all these things.  
< Hey, Jean! >  
He smiled and walked towards him, sitting next to Jean with legs crossed.  
< Hey. >  
He does not look away from the TV, watching Marco made him feel even colder. Inconspicuously tried to enjoy the little heat that the steam from the hot chocolate was giving him. It was only on his left cheek but it was something.  
< Jean, don’t you feel the cold? >  
< Mphf, not at all. >  
He tried to smile, as usual, showing its large bronze face, but only managed to shake the corner of the mouth.  
Marco did not seem very convinced, but he didn’t say a word more about it.  
Jean saw him place the cup on the coffee table in front of them and start looking for something under the blanket he was wearing. After a few seconds he pulled out a stuffed toy in the shape of giraffe and put it on the legs of Jean, all smiles.  
< Here, you had forgotten this in the bedroom. >  
< Wh-what!? > despite the cold, Jean was able to blush < I haven’t forgotten this thing! I don’t like to take it around the house, I’m not a child! >  
Despite the tone of Jean’s voice, not friendly at all, Marco replied with a sweet smile and a quiet expression.  
< You're right, sorry. Well, but now I brought it here, keep it. >  
Jean put on a sort of pout that seemed to make Marco more cheerful.  
The other did not know why, but I had the impression that the friend were somehow kidding him.  Not in a bad way, of course, Marco was not really the kind of person who did things like that, however ... the feeling of being cheated, so to speak, did not disappear.  
He stared for a moment the plush and then he leaned over his hands, automatically blushed when he heard that it was pleasantly warm.  
It was probably because Marco had kept it with him for a while, under the blanket.  
Jean dug his fingers into the soft fur of plush synthetic fur, thinking that after all was Marco had been to give it to him, then he had not succumbed to the cold like a little girl.  
He took the plush closer to the stomach, squeezing it.  
He saw Marco give him a smug look that made him feel a strange warmth to the ears.  
< Gee, I don't know how can you resist, Jean. I have so cold even now! >  
Suddenly said, taking a sip of hot chocolate and then tighten even more in his own blanket, watched by an amazed and a little Jean.  
< Relly? >  
< Really. >  
Pompous, Jean puffed out his chest, and this time the cold was not able to stop him from smiling.  
< Well, you see, evidently I have a physical stronger than yours! No offense, of course. >  
< Don’t worry, no offense> Marco said, raising his shoulders <indeed, could you do me a favor? >  
< Mh? >  
By then, Marco seemed to open his arms, but Jean realized that was actually uncovering one side of his body, stretching the blanket to him.  
< Could you come in here with me? >  
< W-WHAT!? >  
< I told you that I'm cold, no? >  
 _Ah, right_. Yes, in fact he had just told him, and it was known that two bodies neighbors were able to warm up to each other very well. Of course that Marco was really chilly!  
<Well > came up a little < I'll probably warm too much, but if you insist ... >  
< I insist. Please. >  
Jean shrugged, as if he had resigned himself to something annoying, and approached his friend even more. When he found himself beside him, leaning on him, Marco put his arm around Jean’s shoulders to cover it with a blanket and form a sort of unique tent that contained them both.  
< Thank you, Jean.  >  
< You're welcome.  >  
When his body felt that wave of pleasant warmth, he relaxed completely. Jean had to strive not just to not doze off, but was unable to prevent his eyes shut and his head to descend on Marco’s shoulder. The latter, under the blanket, still had an arm around the friend’s shoulders, while his other hand had come to rest on his and squeezed a little, as if trying to warm them.  
Jean drove out this thought with embarrassment, but did not budge. He kept telling himself that was what Marco needed his touch and the heat, not him, certainly not!  
He winced a little when he felt his lips rest gently on his head.  
They were so hot ...  
< You know, you should not be so insecure, not with me.  >  
At these words, Jean hid part of his face in the blanket.  
< What the hell are you talking about, man? >  
The response from Marco was a giggle accompanied by the offer of a drink of chocolate. Jean agreed that, while maintaining a childish pout on his face.  
 

THE END


	3. Freckles!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Every time he looked in the mirror, he could not help but do a little grimace.  
> He hated his freckles."
> 
> I think that Marco hates his freckles, but I also think that Jean does not.

**Freckles!**

   
Every time he looked in the mirror, he could not help but do a little grimace.  
He hated his freckles.  
If were limited to stay, so to speak, on his cheeks, he would also have to accept them without fuss, but the thing was quite different. Were scattered on his chest, shoulders, back of the neck ... even on the buttocks!  
He looked down in front of his mirror image, adjusting the towel in waist and crossing his arms over his chest, as if trying to hide at least some of those ridiculous dots.  
As might sound silly, after the shower he always checked to see if he could send away a few freckles ... with the sponge. It was ridiculous, ridiculous as the discomfort that caused him (he had arrived even to go to the beach with a shirt on) but could not really take it off from the head, this idea: The idea that her freckles were horrible.  
He looked at the back and shoulders in the mirror. It seemed to him that with the skin still damp, the freckles stood out more, but it was probably just an illusion. His eyes rested on the container of talcum powder placed on the edge of the sink, maybe if he had sprinkled his freckles with talcum powder, those horrible dots would have been less obvious, masked beneath the veneer white and powdery.  
He reached for the container, but he withdrew the hand at the last, shaking his head.  
 _What nonsense._  
He was making the figure of the girl insecure about her looks, and appeared pathetic even to himself in the mirror.  
He decided that he would buy some more turtlenecks, was enough to mask at least partly his epidermal problem.  
The noise of the handle that snaps startled him.  
Jean went into the bathroom, and was invested by the water vapor that still hung persistent. The sudden change in temperature made e his eyes becom bright and Marco was grateful for that, at least would not have noticed his skin too much.  
< Man! What did you do, a sauna? >  
He asked, fanning his hand over the face in search of a little fresh air, or at least a kind of air that was not stuffy.  
< I like to wash with hot water. >  
< I've noticed! That's why when I take a shower after you, I pray that I do not come ice cubes upon me. >  
Marco smiled absently, and when Jean passed behind to him to go to open the window, Marco hurried to grab the robe balled up on the towel. Put it on quickly, anxious to cover his back and shoulders. There was only one person in front of which he was ashamed to show his freckles rather than himself, and this person was Jean.  
There was a reason why he often wore turtlenecks, there was a reason why his pajamas were all slightly longer on the limbs and tight around his neck, and there was a reason for which he took refuge in the room or in the bathroom every time he had to change his clothes: He did not want that Jean saw his body so badly decorated, not too much at least.  
For him it would have been worse than appear naked.  
<Ah! >  
The train of thought was broken by an unpleasant cold sensation on his neck. He thought it was because of the open window, instead he saw in the mirror that Jean was spitefully blow on him.  
< Hey! What are you doing? >  
< Imagine this feeling all over the body, are you there? Well, that's how I feel when I have to wash after that  you're screwed all the hot water. >  
Jean assumed an annoyed air, but Marco knew he was just kidding. The friend still managed to make him feel slightly guilty about the affair of the water.  
Realizing the proximity of Jean, he hurried to lift the hood of the robe over his head, but he just did Jean laid a hand on his shoulder.  
<Ohi ohi, wait a moment! >  
He felt the boy pinch the cap and pull it down. Marco would have prevented him with all his strength if he did not know that would have seemed very strange and probably Jean, out of spite, would insisted even more.  
< What is it? >  
She asked, trying to conceal his agitation.  
< This! > The tip of his index finger was placed at the center of Marco’s neck, gently and precisely <This is new! >  
It took a few seconds to realize what Jean he had said to him. He looked in the mirror his face strangely jovial and curious, and as soon as his mouth opened to ask the question of _What are you talking about?_ in his mind came the reply.  
< U-a new freckle? >  
< Yeah! And right in the center. What are they, stars? It almost seems that they form a design. >  
A blush on the cheeks turned up to Marco, who pursed his lips, and he was grateful to be in the middle of the hot water vapor, so if Jean had noticed that he was blushing, he would have a good explanation.  
Not that he was ashamed to blush in front of him, but it was the reason to make him feel uncomfortable.  
< I don’t know. You see, I avoid to looking at them too often > turned toward him, both had shiny eyes, but for different reasons < ... Jean, why you know my freckles so well? >  
He knew he caught him by surprise with that question, and a redness that was not there before (and thus was not due to heat) is pushed on the cheeks of the boy.  
< Oh, er… well, I… >  
< I'm asking because it's a bit 'unusual that you know the number of my freckles so well... _I_ do not even know it, you know.  >  
There was silence for a few seconds, though Marco seemed like an eternity. Jean was torturing his hands and rolling his eyes, as if he was trying to escape from that situation, maybe thinking about some reply to justify all without embarrassing himself too much.  
Evidently he could not do it, because he performed an act exasperated by dropping sharply arms on the sides of the body, and said in a voice too acute.  
< I count them to fall asleep. >  
Marco’s eyes widened.  
< What? >  
< I count them. How one does with sheep. But sheep do not work with me and sometimes I find hard to fall asleep, and so ... I count your freckles. >  
Marco did not know what to say. It was not even convinced that there was something sensible or appropriate to say after such a revelation, but something still managed to jump out of his mouth.  
< Do you like them? >  
<What? >  
< My freckles > gulped, he could not believe he was really asking this < do you like them? >  
The other shrugged his shoulders, and a small smile came on his face.  
< Yes, they are funny. And useful for sleep. >  
That night, Marco pretended to fall asleep very soon.  
He had put a different kind of pajamas, lighter, wider. With his eyes closed but still quite alert, he heard  Jean murmuring numbers in a low voice.  
 _14, 15, 16 ..._  
After a few seconds, when Jean got to 29 and then stopped, Marco became convinced that he had finished counting the freckles on his cheeks. He smiled slightly, opened his eyes and spoke.  
< You want me to turn? >  
The other winced slightly.  
< W-what? >  
< So you can count those on my neck. >  
Jean nodded shyly and Marco turned around, showing his shoulders. He heard the friend mutter numbers again, and he felt ... happy, no more embarrassment, no more uncomfortable.  
He never understood why he found his own freckles detestable, because he thought that they were incredibly anti-aesthetic, but one thing was certain: the hatred, thanks to Jean, was completely gone.  
When he awoke the next morning, he was able to note that Jean had fallen asleep with the nose pressed against his neck.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I've probably made a lot of mistakes. Have mercy, I'm Italian, but I wanted to share this story.  
> It’s just a bunch of fluff at the end and it all started with a game of prompts.  
> Note: Id not used the word “muddling” random.  
> I was inspired by the blog jean-kirschtein-rants (on tumblr) an amazing, funny and cute blog about Jean.  
> Well, that’s all, I guess. Hope you enjoyed the story.  
> p.s. this ff is the translation of one of my ff  
> By Mattie.


End file.
